


Liberty's Lesson

by UrbanMuzes (notenuffcaffeine)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Ezra needs a hug, Gen, vin and ezra are trouble magnets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 02:12:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14009928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenuffcaffeine/pseuds/UrbanMuzes
Summary: When a prisoner escort for Judge Travis goes drastically wrong, the Seven get split up, and Ezra finds himself responsible for an injured Vin and JD.





	Liberty's Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> ______________  
> Fandom: Magnificent 7  
> Title: Liberty's Lesson  
> Author: Vonilyn  
> Rating: PG  
> Characters: Ezra, Vin, Chris  
> Pairing: N/A  
> Warnings: slight language  
> Status: Complete  
> ______________

It was not surprising to discover that everything had gone wrong. Ezra had known from the onset that things would go terribly awry. The deck had very clearly been stacked against them, but as was his usual, Chris God Almighty Larabee had made up his mind. There would be no turning back for the team.

And now three of their number were paying for their carelessness. Paying dearly. Ezra surveyed his bleak surroundings once again. Looking back on the events that had transpired since they'd begun their mission of the day before, he found the irony striking that he'd become a prisoner while holding one. But that prisoner had disappeared somewhere amid the ambush, hurriedly escorted back to the safety of Four Corners by three of the town's protectors. Nathan Jackson had accompanied Josiah immediately after the first shots had been fired, charging their horses and prisoner, hell bent for leather back to town under the cover fire Ezra assisted in laying out. Buck had followed soon after; noticing that one of their attackers had taken up pursuit of his team members.

Ezra remembered vividly the chaos that ensued upon Mr. Wilmington's retreat, though he had yet to figure out how on Earth it had been so successful. He winced as the memory resurfaced yet again, as it had more than a dozen times since he'd regained his senses.

Young Mr. Dunne had been the first to be hit, a frightening shot that hit too near the head for Standish's liking. Vin Tanner had seen the boy stumble, calling out from his position across the small clearing of rocks. 

"Ya still with us, JD?" his voice more frantic than Ezra had ever heard. He remembered the look of anger that had crossed Chris Larabee's face as Ezra had dropped back to check on the boy. Ezra knew the anger was not directed at him, but at the bastards who had tried to take out the youngest member of the small team of protectors. 

At some point, bullets still flying from both sides of the narrow valley they'd taken cover in, Ezra realized Tanner had joined him in trying to rouse Mr. Dunne. Vin had taken a protective position between the attackers and the prone man, allowing Ezra to carefully assist JD to a safer location, Tanner following, silent save for the occasional retaliatory gunfire. In practically no time at all, they had gotten to a shady grove, protected by numerous tall tree trunks and dangerously steep ditches.

And within seconds, they'd found themselves separated from Chris' scowling continence by a group of men, easily twice the size of their original number. They'd come from nowhere at all, just appeared into the spaces surrounding the three lawmen. JD, who was hardly coherent, let out a blind shout for Chris in an attempt to warn him. After a nod from a worn looking Vin, Ezra had gently silenced the boy. Despite the steady stream of blood that came from the grazing he'd taken to the left side of his head, JD turned wild, pain filled eyes to Ezra. It seemed as though the boy was asking why, asking for help. Ezra just looked away, his eyes darting all around them. Vin had been ordered to drop his weapon, and was in the process of resisting when Ezra suddenly stood up. 

"Gentlemen," he'd appealed, "I'm sure there's another way to handle this..."

His distraction had only been partially effective. He barely registered the rush of air he felt against his face as a bullet went streaking by. One of the men attempting to control Tanner cried out and slumped heavily against the sharpshooter. Alarmed, Vin struggled away from the dead man and out of the grasp of his compatriot. He dove for the cover of a large oak trunk before turning to look for the source of the gunfire. Ezra had taken to the ground, his small Derringer snapping out of its hiding place. He could see Chris' black-clad form partially hidden behind a tree, mere feet away from where Vin was taking cover. A shadow edged nearer to Chris' location, but the gunfighter didn't make a move. Their leader had seen Vin nearby and was doing his level best not to endanger his men further. His eyes were too focused on what lay ahead of him to care what was lurking behind him.

Ezra had opened his mouth to warn him, but he heard the cocking of a pistol near his ear and froze. Slowly, Ezra looked away from Chris' predicament to see the still smoking barrel scarce inches from his temple. Vin, too, was on the business end of someone's riffle, his head dropped back against the tree trunk, recognizing that he'd been beat. Neither of them had noticed as Larabee's large and silent assailant crept up from behind, taking a small log to the back of the man's head. A moment later, the pistol-bearing man behind Ezra roughly requested that he put down his weapons. Ezra had complied, careful not to make any surprising movements that might earn him a bullet to the brain.

"Go get theirs too. All of 'em. Make a pile, right there where you put yers," the voice ordered. The pistol stayed trained on Ezra's head as he reached over to collect JD's various weaponry. He'd then had to stand up in order to get to Vin. Tanner'd watched him closely, resignedly handing Ezra the mare's leg and a pistol. Ezra grimaced, but reached out and dug into Vin's jacket to retrieve the second, concealable weapon Ezra knew he carried. Vin glared at him for it, but the look soon faded. They both knew Ezra was 'forgetting' the switchblade Vin kept in his boot when he'd drawn the short-range pistol out. He shot a questioning glance at Vin then, but the other man quickly looked away.

Their guns thusly taken care of, the imposing group of ten rounded up Ezra, Vin, and JD. Chris was left behind, unconscious and therefore unable to walk. JD required assistance, but between Vin and Ezra, he'd managed to make the long daytime trek through the heat and sun to their current location. Ezra didn't know where they were, and the tracker- the only one who could possibly have any knowledge on the subject - had passed out too quickly once they'd been allowed to sit down within the confines of their new prison. Standish recognized that while it was far better than being half dragged by tethers and hedged on all sides by stomping horse hooves, it was too close confines for the usually claustrophobic Mr. Tanner. Ezra suspected that blood loss and possibly heat stroke had helped the man into the release of oblivion.

JD, too, had collapsed nearly the moment they'd stepped through the doorway. If it could be called a doorway. Their new lodgings resembled a horse stall, hay and straw covering the ground on which they sat. A barred window near the sliding wall they'd entered through offered Ezra a limited view of a very dark and crumbling barn.

Ezra had eventually succumbed to his own exhaustion that first night. His bound arms ached from the restraining way he'd been forced to sleep and he resolved that as soon as one of the others woke up, he'd be free of the thick ropes. While Vin and JD slept silently on that morning, Ezra had loosened their bindings, and then set to work on his own. All the while, his mind keeping itself busy by replaying the previous day's fiasco.

"Hey," the soft voice of Vin Tanner was quieter, harsher than usual as he tried talking his own mind into awareness. He'd been fading in and out for a few minutes, waking to the sight of Ezra Standish comically trying to work loose the ropes around his wrists. Ezra jumped slightly at the voice, looking automatically to the window above the still snoring JD.

"Oh. Well, good morning, Mr. Tanner," Ezra replied, shaking his head and mentally cursing his own reactions. Vin nodded sleepily and tried pushing himself into a sitting position, away from the dirt and straw. He winced at the searing pain that shot through his side, but he managed to prop himself up against the wall. He soon found that his hands could nearly slip right out of the confining ropes, and he had to fight the urge to shake them free. He wouldn't want to arouse suspicion if someone came by to check on them.

"How's the kid?" he questioned. If Ezra had been able to get around to loosen the ropes, he must have checked up on them while he'd been at it. The man would probably never admit to it directly, Vin knew, but he would have done it, all the same. Ezra glanced up only briefly from his hands, his gaze resting on JD for a few seconds before returning to his work. 

"Mr. Dunne has yet to awaken, and I daresay we won't know how he truly fares until then."

Vin shrugged. The man had a point. He shifted around until he could comfortably reach his ankle. He felt out the cool metal edging of the switchblade and pulled it out from his boot. Tanner flicked it open and stared at it despondently for a moment, tilting it and twisting to allow the light to catch the silver. He carefully closed it up again, both hands closing on the worn wood and preparing to toss it over to Ezra.

"Here. Me'be this'll help," he offered. Ezra looked up in time to see the knife hit the ground and slide over the straw the few inches before it hit his knee. He nodded his thanks and scooped it up. Vin turned his attention to his aching side, slowly trying to peel away the layers of clothing with two joined hands. Eventually, he gave up and tugged the rope off one wrist.

"Damn," he muttered, noting the large red stain that started just below his rib cage and soaked through his white undershirt all the way down to his jeans. Ezra heard the oath and finished cutting through one of the ropes before looking to see what the new problem was. "How did you acquire that particular injury, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra questioned. He doubled his efforts on his ropes and had them gone in another minute.

"One'a the sonsabitches from yesterday. When you were tendin' JD at the fight? Well, the one Chris'd shot had a knife. Surprised the hell outta me," Vin admitted, hissing as he tried pulling the end of his shirt free from his pants to better inspect the wound. Standish watched him fight it for a minute before giving in.

"That is most likely the reason behind his early demise," Ezra pointed out. Vin nodded, clenching his teeth as he pulled carefully on the stuck clothing. He didn't really need reminding that Chris was so protective of him, of them all. If Chris was still alive back there, they both knew that he'd be chomping at the bit to get the men responsible for their current situation. Neither man wanted to even think about the health of their former prisoner at the moment. Chris Larabee wasn't a cruel man, but he was a hard man, and if he thought that the thieving Jimmie Roberts knew something about the location of his team, he'd lay in hard. But hopefully not as hard as he had on Vin's attacker.

Ezra sighed and slid closer to help. Opening the switchblade, he handed it to Vin and offered to hold his jackets out of the way. Vin accepted with a nod and sliced away at the offending material covering his wound. Vin's aggressor had taken a broad swipe at him, grazing his rib cage and leaving an angry gash down his side. Neither man was too knowledgeable on injuries, but they’d seen enough of their own to know when one was infected.

"Clean cut. And I'm not bleeding so much no more," he mumbled. He tore a large strip off the bottom of his shirt and began devising a rough dressing for it. Ezra nodded, watching patiently.

"I apologize for not being of any true assistance, but I am not Mr. Jackson, nor will I pretend to have even a fraction of his medical knowledge. What little I do know, I've already put into action, though it most likely is not near enough to be effective," he replied, turning his head to look at JD across the room. Vin followed his gaze and noticed for the first time that Ezra's jacket was under the young man's head for a pillow and a white strip of cotton had been tied 'round to staunch the bleeding. Standish must be freezing in his remaining silk shirt. Vin shook his head.

"Nah, ya done fine. Nathan'd do the same," he grunted, holding the thickest fold of his cut-up shirt against his ribs. Ezra looked doubtful and slowly let Tanner's clothes settle back into place, moving himself back to his far wall facing the door. The disinterested mask Standish was so good at wearing fell back into place automatically. Vin frowned, but let it go.

"Why're we still here?" he wondered. He'd half expected to wake up dead when he'd passed out the night before. Ezra's face remained impassive as he worked free of the last of the rope. He rubbed gently at his sore, chaffed wrists.

"I'd imagine they're awaiting word on the fate of their teammate."

Vin let out a low whistle. "All them guys for just Jimmie. That just don't seem smart."

Ezra nodded in agreement. He knew little about their captors, but he did know that they had started the previous day with at least ten more men than they had finished with. However, when he remembered the reason Judge Travis had wanted Mr. Roberts moved out to Tombstone so quickly, he began to see possibly why so many would be willing to risk their lives to save the scrawny miscreant from his jail time.

Jimmie Roberts was a talker and a storyteller. He had sold the judge on the idea that he knew enough to turn State’s Evidence against 'someone'. But to the best of Ezra's knowledge, part of the man's deal would be to keep his mouth shut until he was cleared of all charges. Only *then* would the Judge know just who and what. The Judge hadn't been too happy with it, to say the least. So he’d enlisted the Seven to drag Roberts' sorry hide to Tombstone to see if they could scare the information out of him. If not, his information be damned, he'd be moving on up to Yuma.

But somehow, their plans slipped to the loud-mouthed Roberts and before noon the next day most of the town had known. By that time, Ezra had warned Chris against going. He'd heard Roberts' tales of the twenty or so men Ezra now found himself surrounded by, and while he'd readily admit that Jimmie liked to hear himself talk, he did not believe the man to be a liar. They were a highly trained unit, militaristic on some points. Standish had more than a few qualms over the idea of crossing them. He did not want to risk his life for the likes of Jimmie Roberts. Larabee, however, could not justify waiting longer, as their plans would then be given time to leak out again, perhaps giving whoever they might come across more time to plan.

Ezra let out a scoff, oblivious to the look it earned him from Vin. While their scheduled leaving may have prevented a repeat newsbreak, it certainly hadn't ensured their safety. Standish was cold, tired, sore and hungry. Tanner was injured, but had yet to bemoan that fact, so Ezra stubbornly kept his mouth shut as well. JD... well, it'd be a blessing if the boy woke up long enough to complain.

But the longer Ezra sat there in silence, the angrier he got. Angry at Chris, angry at Roberts, and angry with himself for having walked so willingly into the situation when he'd known from the start it would not go his way. Hell, he was angry at his damn horse for not having thrown him across the livery yard when he'd mounted up the previous morning. He'd rather be confined to his room with a vexed Nathan Jackson standing guard outside than confined here in this drafty cell. He'd rather be anywhere but here, with the two men Larabee looked out for so stubbornly.

Ezra knew his position was still on shaky ground with practically the whole team. He'd seen the looks on more than a few occasions, the looks that wondered when the Southerner was going to take off. The looks that asked why he'd not left already, the ones that begged to know if he could be trusted with some trivial piece of information. Looks he'd hardly seen on the faces of the two men sitting near him now. It would of course be the people who seemed to have some semblance of trust in him who would be taken along with him. They couldn't possibly have been left with Chris and the others, to stand up for him whenever someone voiced concern over where his loyalties lay.

And Ezra knew that somewhere, right now, one of the team was wondering if perhaps their resident gambler had turned on them. They'd seen him question Larabee's judgment that night at the jail, they'd heard him suggest they wait, suggest they send out someone to check the route first. Now in hindsight, those suggestions that could have possibly saved a few lives would seem like nothing more than a successful con job to a suspicious mind. And of the seven men Ezra called his friends, he knew that the most suspicious minds had been left behind. If something were to happen to either one of his current companions, Ezra knew where the blame would ultimately be placed.

"Ezra," Vin's voice sounded almost far away, but succeeded in snapping Standish back to reality again. Ezra was surprised to have to look down to the tracker, his mind not registering the fact that somewhere along the way, he'd stood up and begun pacing the breadth of his wall.

"Cut it out an' hush," Tanner whispered hurriedly, "Sounds like someone's comin'."

Ezra's eyes widened. He quickly crossed to the window, careful not to step on the still unconscious JD. He peeked his head out between the bars and saw two men coming toward them. It looked as though one of them was carrying a tray of some sort.

"Two someones, Mr. Tanner," he supplied, moving to a place against the wall where he could better see them without having JD constantly underfoot. He watched the two men approach, the one not carrying anything brandishing a set of keys and swinging open their cell door. Ezra stood up from where he'd been leaning against the wall and moved to intercept them. The man with the keys threateningly waved a gun around.

"Back off," he warned, "Or you and your friends don't eat." Ezra obliged automatically, his own need for sustenance clueing him in to the fact that none of them had eaten in perhaps a day and a half and that at least Vin would be in an even more drastic need of the nourishment. JD's serving would obviously have to wait a little longer, but he saw no reason to stall his or Vin's share. The tray was set down just inside the door.

What Ezra had thought was a tray was really a long, shallow crate. In it were stacked three small canteens and a single cloth sack. Ezra swore he could smell steak. At first he thought he was imagining things, but even Tanner had assumed a wide-eyed expression of surprise. Ezra stared from the offered food to the men who had brought it.

"Now, ya'll behave yourselves and you'll more than likely live long enough to see next week," the gunman at the door laughed before shutting the door again. A lock was heard being set into place, then the two sets of footsteps began echoing down the corridor away from them. Ezra had just opened his mouth to comment on the apparent level of treatment they were suddenly receiving when a quiet voice from the barn corridor caught his attention.

"Whaddya say that for, Crane?" the voice asked. Vin looked up at Ezra in alarm; it must have been the kid who'd brought in the food.

"Say what?" the gun-wielding gentleman replied.

"About them living to see next week. You said before that ain't up to how they behave or don't," the kid pointed out.

"We'll know in four hours, kid," Crane answered easily. He went on talking, but there was a loud crashing sound following the words, and neither Ezra nor Vin could make out what he said beyond that. Their best guess was that they'd just been locked in by yet another, much larger barn door, which had been what had muffled the others' voices.

"Four hours?" Vin wondered, baiting the line. Ezra crouched down and began investigating the contents of the crate further. "Ya think that's when they're expectin' to get ta Jimmie next? No way Chris'd try moving him this soon. Specially when he's three men short," the tracker went on, watching as Ezra uncovered a plate of sliced, warm steak roast.

"That's assuming Mr. Larabee's still alive," Ezra muttered quietly. His mind flashed on the sight of Larabee falling under the blow of the log and he quickly shook it away. Vin too shook his head, but not as if clearing away memories.

"Nah, Chris' still alive and well, same as you an' me, Ez," Vin asserted, "He's too stubborn to die."

Ezra offered him a piece of meat and Vin took it, examining it closely before biting in to it. "'Sides," he added, quieter and almost imperceptibly less certain, "I'd know if he'd gone."

Ezra just frowned, not even tempted to argue Tanner's logic.

"At any rate, Mr. Tanner, I do not believe they were referring to a second attempt at forcefully retrieving Mr. Roberts. After their rather substantial loss of yesterday, such action would be too costly, and they'd most likely see it as unnecessary at the moment, regardless."

Vin glanced up at him, mid-chew. Ezra tore off small pieces of the meat, the closest distraction he could get to playing with his food.

"Yeah, I was afraid you were thinkin' the same as me," Vin finally muttered, throwing in a curse. He finished off his second piece and scooped up a canteen. Ezra just retied the bag to keep in some of the food's remaining heat and placed it near JD in the vague hope that maybe the smell would get him up. It was a vague hope, but it was basically the only thing he knew of that he'd not been able to try yet. Something had to work.

 

***

It had been the longest four hours of his life, and yet looking back on it, it seemed that the minutes all blurred together making it the shortest. Then the four hours stretched into five and sunlight no longer seeped in to cast it's shadows, taking away the only clock they had. The small cell had gotten darker again, and Ezra began to miss his coat in earnest as the temperature plummeted.

Then, quite suddenly, Ezra realized that their fates were about to be decided. The big barn door outside was slammed open. Expecting to see the two men from earlier, Ezra stood up once again and went to the window. Vin began to stand up as well, noting the shocked look that had briefly crossed Ezra's features in the moving lamplight that came from the barred window. Ezra shook his head quickly as he spied what Tanner was doing. He held up a hand, all five fingers extended. 'Five men.' he told him wordlessly. Vin just nodded and tried to stand up again. Ezra paled. The five men approaching did not have the most pleasant air about them; he was sure they did not bring good news. And Ezra knew from personal experience that when five angry men with bad news came to visit, the best plan was to draw as little attention to yourself as possible.

Vin could hardly make it to his feet without suffering a crippling amount of pain, between the gash in his side and the blood loss, but he managed to stand, using the wall for support. He still favored the right side of his body, and had to lean on the wall with his left side, his back partly to the door. Ezra crossed to the center of the small room, watching the door and muttering,

"Damnit Mr. Tanner, you are in no condition to..."

The sharpshooter grinned wryly, "Shuddup, Ez. Yer beginin to sound like Nathan."

Just then the door to their cell opened. 

"Where are they?" a voice demanded. It was the man from earlier, Crane, his gun now holstered in favor of an archaic looking lamp. Four men stood behind him, effectively blocking the door.

"Where's who?" Vin returned easily, his face calm, his whole demeanor as unthreatening as he could make it. Ezra closed his eyes.

'Damnit Vin, why couldn't you have kept your mouth shut?' he thought briefly.

"You. Face me when I'm talking, boy," Crane ordered. Vin made his best attempt at it, but obviously wasn't fast enough for Mr. Crane's liking. Crane stepped forward and grabbed Vin's shoulder, forcing him around. Tanner grunted, but made no move to cradle his side again. Not for the first time, Ezra cursed pride. The tracker glowered down at the shorter Mr. Crane but said nothing. Ezra took advantage of the brief silence.

"Gentlemen, you've yet to tell us what this is all about," he pointed out, stepping shoulder to shoulder with Vin but intentionally looking at all five men, not just Crane. Not to be out done by some scraggly looking kid, Crane continued staring at Vin as he answered Ezra's polite demand.

"They ain't at the jail." His answer caused Vin to look over at Ezra, both their faces assuming convincing poker faces but each man knowing what must be going through the other's mind. Where had their team gone?

"We've got men posted along the trails to Tombstone and they ain't passed that way," Crane went on, a forced grin on his face as he too looked over at Ezra finally. "Got some folks who say they ain't even showed up to town since yesterday morning. And there certainly ain't been no signs of my boys yet."

"Well, sir, I can assure you that we do not know where they would have taken Mr. Roberts. Our itinerary did not consist of backup routes to our eventual destination," Ezra replied, the first to recover from his surprise. Crane actually smiled now, what looked like mock sympathy on his face.

"Maybe yours didn't, Standish. But according to Jimmie, this one out ranks you among your little troop."

Crane's glare returned to Vin. Ezra's ire grew as he realized the man knew his name, but his words stinging worse as he voiced something Ezra had always known, yet never chosen to admit to, let alone be forced to accept as they were thrown in his face so bluntly. Whoever Crane was, he was certainly well informed.

Tanner hid his own shock well, replying coolly, "Yer that ol' basterd JD tol' me he had to chase away from the jail winda' a coupl'a times."

Ezra winced as Crane's face reddened all the way to his ears. A moment later, Vin was hunched over and stumbling backward as the old man let loose a punch to the tracker's stomach. Ezra reached out to catch him, Vin accepting the help gratefully just long enough to remain on his feet.

"This ol' bastard ain't so old that he can't beat your scrawny Injin-luvin ass, boy. Whoop a good healthy respect into you," Crane replied, his voice calm, but too loud for the small room as it echoed back to him a few times. He smiled again, something singly unholy, as the angered Vin Tanner straightened up, his injured manner gone as the adrenaline kicked in.

Ezra wasn't fast enough to stop him. Tanner let fly a punch of his own, his fist coming back for a second round before Ezra got between them. In a flash, the other four men were involved. The first two through the door ran at Vin, hauling him to the nearest wall and pinning him there. Two more dragged Ezra away from Vin and outside. Before Ezra had time to truly realize what was going on, he found his arms held firmly behind him by one thug, the second trailing behind just in case he was needed.

Outside the barn, Ezra was surprised to note that it was windy and probably twice as cold as it had been inside. On hindsight, he realized that perhaps it wasn't really that big of a difference, that he really hadn't had time to judge. Almost as soon as they were through the doors, Ezra found himself facing a watering trough. Standish began struggling away from the two men holding him; he'd been here before, and had no desire to revisit that particular memory now.

Two sets of hands roughly turned him around to face the men and Ezra tried to duck out of the way, trying to put distance between himself and the more than likely freezing, dirty water. No such luck. While one man corralled him near the water, the other caught his shoulder and pushed him slightly, setting him totally off balance. Then a quick punch to the jaw and it was all over for his dry clothing.

He took a header into the water bin, soaking his head, shoulders and the front of his shirt. Ezra came up sputtering, the laughter of the others ringing loudly in his ears. Composing himself, he slowly began pushing up and out of the deep water. To say that he was angry would be an understatement; he was downright pissed.

Two days worth of being ordered around, deprived of his freedom, pushed, pulled, and prodded manifested into a rage and the normally composed Southern gentleman let out a string of oaths that would have made a sailor blush. On his feet, he set his sights on the larger of the two men responsible and with a forced calmness approached the laughing man. His mouth formed a tight smile as he looked the other man in the face. 

"I thank you for the assistance, but normally I prefer to bathe where the pigs and bovine have not. So if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you two to your," he paused and sniffed the air around the man, "Monthly rituals."

Ezra's words caught the man off guard and he had to stop for a moment to figure out which part of the two sentences had been the insult. Ezra used the confusion to his advantage, stepping closer and delivering a fierce punch to the other man's ribs. Struggling for breath, the thug soon found himself sprawled out the full length of the deep trough. The second man who'd done the corralling when Ezra had tried to make his escape seemed to have forgotten Ezra was there now, instead focused on trying to get his friend out before he drowned.

Ezra, satisfied with his work, sat back and admitted that it truly was a funny sight to see someone flail around like that. And he laughed. His amusement was not allowed to last long, but it was worth it. It felt like it had been weeks since he'd been able to laugh like that. He was still laughing when the two men approached him again, the bigger one dripping wet, both of them scowling. 

Slowly, Standish reigned in on his laughter and looked up to face them. There were tears in his eyes from laughing, and his sides had begun to ache, but he didn't care. At the moment, he didn't care that he was being threatened by someone who was about the same size of Josiah Sanchez. He just thought life in general was too damn funny to care just then.

A muffled grunt from inside the barn caught his attention, followed by a shout. The voice belonged to JD Dunne. Ezra sobered instantly. Of all the times for JD to wake up, it had to be now. Ezra's fast mind kicked into gear, gambling on the dupability of the two men advancing on him now. At the last second, Standish turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness.

Freezing cold, he forced his legs to move, his arms and shoulders to propel him over fences. He had judged from the looks of the inside of the barn that the farm had not been used to store animals in quite some time, but he was running on a prayer that he would not wind up in a pen with a bull or some equally unpleasant beast. Behind him, he heard shouts announcing his escape. 

Other sounds met his ears: his own breathing as his lungs struggled to process the cold, sounds of breaking branches as he cleared the last fence and broke into a tree line, the sound of the big barn door closing and the yelled orders to 'Get after him, damnit!'. The one sound he dreaded most, however, never came, and he slowed his pace. Mr. Crane's fine unit of thieves had no dogs.

Ezra took his time looking for a sufficient hiding place. He hadn't taken off in the most obvious direction when he'd run. His aim was not to be caught immediately, but to buy some time for the others. As long as Crane and his men were out looking for him, Mr. Tanner and Mr. Dunne would be left alone. It was Vin he'd heard before JD had cried out, and it didn't take much for Ezra to realize that the tracker was getting the hell beat out of him for not giving up a location. Although it had been obvious from the moment Ezra had seen the five men approach from the window that they had not come in looking for information. They'd come in looking for revenge. Standish idly wondered what tales Jimmie Roberts had told Crane during their conversations through the jail window.

Ezra skirted the edge of the old farm Crane's band was holed up in. By the time the search parties had been formed, Ezra had completely circled the ranch and was sitting against an outcropping of rock in the narrow valley that served as the entrance to the secluded ranch. Judging by the way the blurred lamp light spread out in clumps along the opposite hillside beyond the barn, they'd have combed that whole hill before someone even thought to look anywhere other than that small segment. He had plenty of time.

During that time, he watched carefully, noting whatever moved around the barn. While the opportunity had so easily been given for a complete escape, Ezra was not about to leave the area without Vin Tanner and JD Dunne. He somehow knew that the reception he'd receive back in Four Corners would not be a warm one without their presence.

As if carried by the biting wind, Crane's words came back to him then. ‘Maybe yours didn't, Standish. But according to Jimmie, this one out ranks you among your little troop.’ 

He shivered as he wondered if his place on the team was really that different, that separate from all the others. If an outsider could pick up on the mistrust the other's felt toward him, if someone else could tell they doubted him, then maybe it wasn't all in his head. Maybe he was fooling himself thinking that perhaps he'd found a place to belong. 

After all this time, would Larabee really have left him out of the loop on the Roberts case? Had Chris withheld the back-up plan because he didn't trust him? Did they suspect he, Ezra Standish, had been the one to leak the information around town? Right now, what were they all thinking of him? Perhaps it really was possible that they still expected him to turn on them, to side with the enemy and abandon their men to be killed?

And he'd just left Vin and JD there now, alone, outnumbered, and in no position to truly defend themselves. Shit.

His teeth chattering, Ezra stood up from the sheltered hole he'd found between a few large boulders and looked out at the barn again. Things hadn't changed. A few lights still dotted the area behind the barn, but they'd begun spreading out in other directions now.

Standish wasn't sure why, but what the other men on his team thought of him mattered. It mattered just as much, perhaps more, than the approval of his own mother. He hated the looks and the doubt and the mistrust that would occasionally flare up from the other six. He'd never admit to it, never in a million years let them know that he cared enough to see it, to look for the attitudes, but he did. And they hurt to the core when he let them.

He wasn't going to let the two men down there now think he'd abandoned them. Maybe Josiah was right. Maybe they were 'brothers'. Ezra resolved that he'd not let this family slip away from him as easily as his mother could and usually did. He'd stick it out; no more running. 

Yes, this time he'd been justified in running, but there were other ways he could have handled that situation. He knew that if Chris ever found out he'd disappeared on the other two, Larabee would at the very least kick his ass. Some people lectured, relying on words and guilt trips to drive the lesson home. Chris Larabee just growled out a reason and lit into somebody, letting his fists provide a lesson at least twice as effective as a lecture. But Chris couldn't justify that sort of 'teaching' in every case, and for that, Ezra was extremely thankful. Perhaps, if they all survived Crane's men, every last one of them would survive Chris Larabee as well.

****

Ezra couldn't be sure if the water he felt on his forehead was perspiration or merely because his hair was still damp with trough water. His face had grown warm as he crept boldly nearer to the ranch, though his fingers and arms felt nearly frozen. He lost count of how many times he wished he hadn't left his jacket back at the barn with JD. As he walked, he'd come up with half a dozen ways he could have tried to retrieve it before he'd taken this little sojourn into the woods. However, the closer he got to the barn, the warmer he seemed to get. He forced his mind to begin thinking about what he would do once he got to the barn. Most likely, he would be unable to just waltz through the big door and up to the stall where the others were hopefully still being kept.

There was an overturned wagon at the end of the beaten path through the valley's pass which Ezra slumped down behind to watch the barn. He thought carefully on the layout of his former cell compared with the layout of what he'd seen of the rest of the barn. From the outside, the barn was roughly twice the height of the stall. That meant that there was an enclosed loft area just above it. So on one end, Ezra assumed he should find an access of some sort that might allow him to get up above the small, makeshift cell. From there, he would at least be able to communicate with the others.

His plan decided, Ezra moved forward again. Surprisingly, there was no one standing guard outside the front of the building, merely a lock holding the doors together. Ezra almost smiled; had he the right tools, that lock would not be a deterrent. However, he did not have the proper equipment, nor did he know exactly how much time he had before someone came by to check on the barn. So instead, he stuck to his original idea: sneak in from above.

The barn's second floor was surprisingly low, but Ezra could not have reached it on his own. Stifling a cough, Ezra nearly tripped over a hay bale in the dark. The errant bale was sticking out from a larger, stacked block of the molding straw at the backside of the building. Ezra was surprisingly amused to find that a large window was set in the side of the wall, just behind the hay. It would be a tight squeeze, but there was just enough room for Standish's compact frame to fit through between the two. 

He nearly brought a bale down on his head as he looked for a handgrip, but soon enough Ezra had scaled the side of the stacked blocks of old hay. He looked down only briefly once he'd gotten to the top, but he felt proud of himself for the accomplishment anyway, even if it wasn't quite as high up as the climb had seemed. For someone who despised menial labor, he was doing pretty well. The toughest part was trying not to cough and/or sneeze as he slid through the window, once again finding himself face down in a pile of straw.

The floorboards creaked under his weight, and Ezra instinctively moved slower to prevent creating too much noise. But he had been heard, despite his efforts.

"Hello?" JD called out, unsure if he really wanted to know the reason behind all the mysterious noises. Ezra chuckled silently. The boy's dime novels would be his eventual undoing, Ezra was certain. This time though, he was thankful for JD's paranoia for without it, he'd have never been able to find them. Guessing at where he'd heard the voice from, Ezra got down on his knees and began clearing a patch of floor. He found that the boards had shrunk sufficiently to allow him to see what was going on down below, though at the moment it was too dark for that to do him much good. He finally couldn't contain the coughing any longer. JD looked up in surprise at the sound.

"Ezra?" he whispered, his head jerking up to stare at the ceiling. At first, Ezra could only nod, but once his voice returned to him, he sent down a proper greeting before the boy below him had a fit and called back every last one of Crane's men.

"Hell, Ezra, we thought you'd gone ta get some help! They said you'd run and that old man lit outta here so fast... but Ezra? Vin's not doing so good... I woke up and all three of 'em were..."

JD's fever must have died down because the boy certainly sounded normal again. The past two days they'd been concerned with his silences during those brief intervals when his groggy eyes had opened. Now the boy seemed determined to make up for it.

"I know, Mr. Dunne," Ezra finally interrupted, “I had heard some of it from outside, hence the distraction of my disappearance. Now, son, I want you to look around on the floor there for a knife. I do believe Mr. Tanner's switchblade is down there, and at the moment, it would come in most helpful."

JD doggedly took to the ground, his hands reaching out blindly through nearly every inch of straw on the floor. Ezra tried pointing him in the right direction, hoping that the altercation with Crane had not moved the knife too much. While JD looked, Standish turned his attention to finding the best place to begin pulling up the floor beneath him. He moved closer to the stall window. That way they would be able to get a foothold in the window and climb up to the hole that way. 

He warned JD to stay away, then stood up to try breaking the boards. Ideally, he needed to break them in half without making it too obvious they'd escaped through the loft, so he needed salvageable pieces. That's where the knife would be so beneficial; he'd use it to pry up the nails so that when they were all through, he could just replace the boards and hopefully scare the hell out of Mr. Crane. Ezra let a small smile show as the first board cracked under the force of his boot.

Suddenly JD yelped, "Found it!" and Ezra heard him scramble back to the spot he'd been standing in last time Ezra had spoken to him. Standish called him over to the door, partially lifting the first broken floorboard and trying to pry it loose. He instructed JD on how to get up to him to give him the knife, and JD complied quickly. 

Ezra noted that due to the darkness, the boy was having a harder time of it. They'd have to find some way to deal with that particular factor when the time came to get all three of them through. Ezra took the switchblade and waved JD back down. In no time at all, he had the first board free and started work on the second. Tanner had yet to comment on any of this matter and it was making Ezra nervous. An unconscious body between the two of them would certainly harbor their retreat.

"Mr. Dunne, could you please endeavor to awaken Mr. Tanner. We shall not be able to leave here without his full cooperation, which at the moment it appears he is unable to give," Ezra finally requested. The second board gone, Ezra lowered his upper body through to both see what was going on and to be sure that the hole was big enough. Hanging upside down as he was, his view was rather odd, but he adjusted and sought out JD and Vin. 

Tanner was slumped against the wall in the opposite corner, curled protectively on his injured side. There were more dark spots on the remains of his shirt, and Ezra hoped that they were merely there because of the shadows of the room. But as JD slowly talked Vin into moving around, Ezra noticed that the dark spots hadn't moved. It looked like Crane's men were pretty proficient with knives. Ezra felt another surge of anger, but ignored it. He was burning up enough already, they didn't have time for him to get upset further. Now was the time to get them all out of here.

Ezra pulled his head back through the hole and then dropped himself back down, landing on his feet, thankfully, and not on his face. He went over to help JD with Vin. Tanner woke himself up fully with both men's prompting, eventually getting to his feet. Ezra tried not to notice the newest gashes on the other man's stomach as he and JD helped him across the room. He nodded for JD to climb up ahead of them, which the boy did, having fewer difficulties this time around. Vin remained motionless as he leaned against the wall and looked up at JD's progress.

"Aw hell, Ezra. Couldn't ya've just picked the damn lock? There ain't no way in hell I'll be able to climb that like he did," Vin muttered, keeping his pain-filled voice quiet. Ezra wondered if he was trying to keep JD from hearing the complaint and grinned. Ezra pushed Vin gently toward the window.

"That's why we're here," Ezra replied just as quietly. "JD!" he called, louder this time. JD's face appeared in the hole above them.

"You two coming up, or what?" he asked.

"Some assistance, Mr. Dunne..." Ezra intoned, setting about getting the tracker to make an attempt at climbing.

"Oh, right." JD stuck an arm down through the hole, preparing himself on his end to pull someone up. Vin sighed and took the boy's hand. He winced and hissed from the combined pain of having to raise his arm and from bringing his knee up so close to his injuries as he pushed off against the window. Ezra kept an arm around Vin's waist, guiding him up. Then, when Tanner was away from the window completely, Ezra pushed up on his boots to move him through the hole easier, with less pressure being applied to his injuries. When Vin was through, Ezra looked around and saw the jacket JD had been using for a pillow. He grabbed his jacket off the ground and tossed it up to JD before climbing up himself.

Ezra quickly led the way to the window and the hay bales, earning another half glare from Vin. 

"I think I need to complain more," he heard Vin mutter as JD pushed himself through the narrow window and up onto the pile of hay in front of it. Again, Ezra waved Vin through ahead of him. By the time Ezra had gotten himself out, JD was already on the ground.

"I'm gonna go find the horses!" JD whispered loudly to them. Then he disappeared before Vin had had a chance to say anything against the idea.

"That fool boy better not get us caught," Vin warned, shaking his head.

"Now which of us is sounding like Mr. Jackson?" Ezra replied, lowering himself over the edge of the pile. Vin shot him a glare and growled, "Shuddup, Ez."

Ezra just laughed and dropped down to the ground. He looked back up to see Vin staring nervously down at him. Normally the tracker was a mountain goat, able to climb just about any surface. Surely he wasn't afraid of heights now.

"Mr. Tanner... now would be a lovely time..." he prompted. Vin's head appeared over the edge again to send another glare his way but then quickly disappeared.

"I'm waitin' fer my horse," he grumbled finally. Ezra rolled his eyes.

"You can see just as well from down here, I assure you, Mr. Tanner. You are wasting time being up there, however. We need to leave as quickly as possible," he pointed out.

"Damnit, Ezra..." Vin muttered. But a moment later he was over the edge and attempting to crawl down. His foot slipped part way and he ended up jumping the rest. His usual sure-footed landing, though, seemed to have disappeared because he stumbled back, landing on his backside and holding his knee close. He struggled to his feet and ignored the questioning look Ezra shot him.

Hooves plodding hard packed earth caught their attention and both men froze, hoping it was JD, but ready for anything. Then a rider-less horse came forward and nuzzled into Vin's arm. Vin grinned.

"It's Peso," he informed Ezra. Three more horses appeared around the side of the barn, a smiling JD already on the first one, leading the other two.

"I found 'em!" he whispered, "Found a whole bunch of 'em actually. These four came right to me when I called though. I think this one's Chris'. It was the only other one that had the saddle left on it. I could tell ya for sure in the daylight though. I don't think they much cared for ours. We'll have to take it easy."

Both Ezra and Vin nodded in agreement, Ezra's coughing fit interrupting him. He unfolded his jacket and slung it on before mounting up. Chaucer did a little dance as they waited for Vin and Peso.

"What'd ya do with the other horses, JD?" Vin asked, noting something in the younger man's voice. JD smiled innocently.

"Oh, nuthin... but I think I might have accidentally left the gate open now that you mention it..."

Vin smiled and carefully swung himself onto Peso. The spirited animal took off automatically and the others followed suit.

 

*****

Chris Larabee was pissed off. There was no other way to put it. Jimmie Roberts' crew of would-be rescuers had knocked him out, stolen his horse, *and* three of his men. He would not put up with any more of Roberts' crap.

By the time Buck had gone back after him, Roberts had been delivered safely to the judge over at Mary Travis' place. The man who had trailed Nathan and Josiah was good and dead, as were at least ten more of his friends. Buck had been surprised to find Vin and Ezra gone, but when Chris had told him JD was injured as well as missing, Wilmington nearly blew a gasket. 

Chris rode double with him all the way back to the Travis' ranch, then both men had threatened to light into poor Jimmie for all they were worth. Even the Judge promised that Jimmie would be going straight to the Yuma Territory's prison if his men were not found and returned safely. Judge Travis had absolutely no problems getting the information he needed from that point on.

Roberts had sung like a canary, telling all about how his dear uncle, Anthony Crane, had engineered the whole rescue plan from the beginning. He told where the ranch was and exactly how much stolen money could be found there. Down to the last penny. It seemed Mr. Crane's ring of thieves had been responsible for a good number of the West's most infamous bank heists. They'd even hit a train once, Jimmie said. He went into detail on Crane’s steer hustling scheme, citing a surprisingly large number of stolen cattle and the ranches that he could remember having stolen from. 

He hadn't been able to get the information out fast enough, and all Chris and Buck had to do was stand there over his shoulders as Judge Travis took note of the information. Buck had to be forcibly retained once he heard the location of the Cranes' ranch. But the Judge sent Mary to send on a wire for the army, requesting some assistance. His seven were good, but they weren't good enough against thirty some-odd men when three of their own were missing.

The whole team chaffed at having to wait for the cavalry to show up. Crane had *their* men, *they* wanted to go after them. But Judge Travis was adamant on his position, and he would not be talked out of it. Short of detaining the Judge and his family in the basement with Jimmie Roberts, there wasn't much they could do.

 

****

By daylight, Ezra's occasional coughs had turned into a full-fledged threat to the others' sanity. He had a fever now, and he'd gone through his handkerchiefs in no time at all. Ezra stubbornly limited his coughing spells though, doing whatever it took not to cough; a battle his body always won out on in the end. More than once, JD had told him he needed to cough before he choked, and for some reason, the advice always made Vin grin and shake his head. Eventually, Ezra found it hard to open his mouth and be civil about it. So he remained quiet a majority of the ride. With the exception of his nose blowing and coughing, of course.

Despite the discomfort he felt, and the slight haze his fever kept him under, Ezra began to recognize the area they were now riding through. Thus far, Standish had followed the crowd, trusting the tracker to get them back home, despite the darkness. But the direction they were going did not seem to be 'home' to him now.

"Would you kindly divulge the true nature of our eventual destination, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra finally questioned. JD turned in his saddle with a confused look on his face.

"Huh?"

Ezra chose to ignore him and continued, "Because I am fairly sure that this route we are currently traversing is not that which is bound for Four Corners. If I'm correct, this road goes by Miz Tra..."

"I'm not gonna lead them people straight to us, Ezra. I've been trying to lay enough tracks to confuse the hell out of 'em. Best way I know to do that is to follow a busy trail like this one under our circumstances," Vin interrupted. "So what if it goes by Mary Travis' place? It's a road, ain't it?" 

He too had not had the most pleasant of nights and it was obvious in his snappish attitude and the way he carried his injured torso as they diligently kept to the trail. Ezra felt a pang of guilt over his behavior, but he kept his mouth shut this time. His mind was still on the idea that Larabee had intentionally not told him of a back-up plan. Vin's actions weren't setting his mind at rest to say the least.

Ezra stared suspiciously at the back of Vin's head as the sharpshooter kicked Peso on a little faster. JD followed right after him, giving Ezra a slight shrug as Vin passed him. Tanner soon slowed down again though, in the interests of his horse or his conscience, Ezra wasn't sure which. He dropped back until Ezra had caught up with him and the two rode side by side in silence for a few minutes.

"The Judge is s'ppoused to still be in town, visit'n Mary," Vin finally informed him. The guilt that was nagging his brain was evident on his face, despite the bruises. "Now, if I was a bettin' man, I'd say that's where they'd'a taken Jimmie after the bust-up on the road. Back to the Judge. So I think that's where we oughta head."

Vin glanced over at Ezra, receiving a simple nod. But there was no mistaking the hurt behind the gambler's eyes. Vin scrunched up his face and shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. Damnit, he'd known Ezra would read into that. He pulled Peso to a halt, letting the animal dance impatiently all he wanted.

"Ezra," Vin muttered. Standish reigned in Chaucer and turned slightly on his seat. The calm, disinterested poker player's mask was in place, though the usual hint of amusement was gone. "Look, JD doesn't even know. There was no plan ahead of time, we just wanted ta go and come back. Ya know that damn well 'cause ya were in the room when we all decided on that one. This stuff with the judge, it was all last minute. I was sp'osed to spread the word: We get separated, we meet back up at the Travis' ranch and notify the judge. But I didn't get a chance to once JD was hit," Vin paused to see if there'd been any difference in Ezra's views, if maybe the wall had cracked even a little. No change. 

"Damnit Ezra, my point here is that you weren't left outta' nuthin'. That bullshit Crane was spoutin' last night... was just that; bull shit. Yer on the team, Ez, an that's where you'll stay as long as ya want to. If Chris didn't trust ya, 'n if the rest of us didn't trust ya, ya wouldn't be here. An that's... well, that's all I'm sayin'." Vin let Peso move again, and the big animal took off after JD at a lazy trot. Such a display was unusual for Vin, and that made it all the more striking. Ezra and Chaucer just watched them pass by, Ezra having been left with something new to think on.

 

*****

"Got bout twenty riders com'n in over here, Chris. Still more'n a mile off," Nathan called from his spot on the porch, staring out at the road back in to town. At the same time, Buck Wilmington stood up from where he'd been leaning against the support post and reported, "We got three an' an extra horse over here. Com'n in pretty fast too, looks like."

The return wire the Judge had gotten had promised that a nearby unit would be dispatched to them at the earliest possible moment. Apparently Crane's name pulled a lot of weight across the Texas lines, where most of the crimes were allegedly committed. So Chris and the other three who were gathered on the porch anxiously awaiting the unit's arrival already knew who the twenty riders were. It was the three travelers off to the west that piqued the most interest. They were the unknowns at the moment. Nathan came around the corner of the house to see for himself, and Josiah Sanchez lifted the brim of his hat away from his eyes, deciding to once again join the world of the awakened. Chris stood up from his chair by the door and went to stand beside Buck.

A smile lit on his face at just about the same time as Buck muttered, "Holy Jesus! Would ya lookit that!" and jumped the three feet to the ground. He walked out in front of the house to await their unexpected visitors. Still grinning, Chris returned to his chair. Nathan took one look at the slumped over rider on one of the mounts and disappeared into the house again. By the time he'd returned with his medic kit, the smile had vanished from Chris Larabee's face and the riders were all three being helped from their saddles.

"Miz Travis!" Nathan called out, jumping off the porch. A blonde woman appeared in the doorway a moment later, in time to see Josiah and Chris carefully hauling Vin Tanner out of the saddle of one of the horses. Buck had paused his brotherly fretting over JD's current health to be sure Vin was alright. Which he wasn't. That concluded, Buck hurriedly took the reigns of the four horses and told JD to take a walk with him. Almost instantly, JD launched in to his version of events. Ezra trailed miserably behind the others into the house, where Mary Travis was preparing at least one bed for the wounded. Judge Orrin Travis was coming from the kitchen when Ezra walked through the door.

"Mr. Standish. Are you alright?"

Ezra pasted a half-hearted grin on his face as he turned to greet him.

"Yes sir, I believe I've merely come down with a slight cold..."

"No kidding," Travis replied, suspiciously eyeing Ezra up and down, as a father would a wayward son who'd intentionally fallen in the river a few too many times. He noted the mud and water stained shirt below Ezra's riding coat and the dirty hair that stuck out from under his now flat-brimmed and unusually filthy hat; all very good signs that Mr. Standish was unwell, even the Judge knew that much about the man. 

"Well, all the same, you're not going anywhere until Mr. Jackson can get a good look at you, too. There's plenty of free seats in the front room, go and sit down. And where's the young one? Mr. Dunne? By the looks of you and Mr. Tanner, there is no way he could have possibly come out of this unscathed."

Ezra sighed, for once envying JD his exuberance. JD had taken their ordeal better than he and Vin had. And he was going to heal a whole lot faster than the other two could. "To the best of my knowledge, he accompanied Mr. Wilmington in putting away the horses, sir. His injuries have already begun the healing process, so he is in no immediate danger," Ezra replied. He let the judge usher him toward the nearest couch and sat down upon it. Judge Travis began pacing the room.

"Good. Good. Then he should be fine. I'm sure Buck will keep the boy out of harm's way between here and the barn," he said. A moment later he was updating Ezra on the situation with Jimmie Roberts and on the identity of their former captor, one Anthony Crane. Ezra's mind registered the name Crane a few times, whenever the judge said it, but mostly tuned the old man out. It wasn't long before he'd fallen over on the sofa and was asleep.

The Judge smiled. If he hadn't planned on putting the poor man to sleep, he might have been insulted by Ezra's snoring. Instead, he draped a wool comforter over the sleeping man and carefully made sure that the muddy boots did not come into contact with the furniture. As a final measure, he took Ezra's hat from his head and hung it from the coat rack in the entrance hall before venturing out to the barn to check on the young JD.

 

***

All in all, Vin had five knife-inflicted wounds on his torso and one on the back of his thigh. Two required stitches, but Nathan merely had to dress the rest to let them heal. Vin had passed out due to blood-loss, and he was still weak from it, confined to Mary's house for the moment. Nathan would only let him leave the room if he had someone helping him. As usual, Vin balked at the rules, and as soon as he was feeling just slightly better, he set about seeing how much he could get away with.

Nathan was concerned with Ezra's 'cold', as well. After hearing Ezra absently rattle off some symptoms and making his own observations, Nathan guessed it was more like walking pneumonia. Ezra was adamant about not taking another bed from the kind Ms. Travis, as she was already putting up more than her fair share of guests, so, much to Buck's dismay, Ezra commandeered the loveseat.

That first day they'd arrived at the Travis ranch, JD had been the only one conscious enough to assist the reinforcements Judge Travis had sent for, but between JD and Jimmie Roberts' witness, they had plenty to go on. Chris, Buck, JD and Josiah had all accompanied the troop, JD in the lead and confidently showing the way. Nathan had deemed Dunne a very lucky man for having survived their first prolonged encounter with Crane's boys, let alone for being able to lead the raiding party against him. He'd examined the wound on JD's head and judged by the bruising at the back of his head and neck that the worst thing the young man had actually received was a concussion from hitting his head on something when he'd reacted to the gunshot. The flesh wound that had scared Chris, Vin, and Ezra so badly was minor, though just a fraction of an inch difference could have killed him. But as it was, Ezra's shredded undershirt had provided more than enough bandage to keep the boy's brains in, Nathan said.

The raid had gone relatively well, from what Ezra had been able to learn from JD, Buck and Josiah. Chris spent his time either with the Judge or with Mary Travis once the Judge had left with the army, bound for Tombstone with their many prisoners in tow. Anthony Crane had been one of the men who had scattered at the first sign of the charging posse. But the fifteen men from the army, plus the four men who had volunteered to assist, ended up bringing back a full thirteen prisoners. Some men had been killed in the initial gun battle once the party had cleared the pass that served as the ranchos front gates, but the others had managed to get away. A day later, thanks to Jimmie Roberts, they now had names of those who'd gone missing, so plans were already in the works to get out some posters.

Vin particularly was angered by Anthony Crane's absence from the Army's caravan of prisoners. He refused to say why however. Chris had to come to Ezra for that information, as JD did not know Mr. Crane by name. Ezra had reluctantly told Larabee, between coughs and his voice still weak, about Vin's rather one-sided fight against Crane and two of his goons. He carefully avoided mentioning why the fight had ended though.

Chris waited patiently, but Ezra cut the tale off just before the part he'd already heard from the two other members of his team who'd been present. Sitting there in front of the sofa, on a chair he'd taken from the kitchen table, he stared long and hard at the poker faced Ezra Standish. Ezra absently scrubbed at the rough sleeves of his borrowed linen shirt and resolutely avoided eye contact with the man who 'out ranked' him and the five other men still camped out at Mary's.

"Vin told me you ran, Ezra," Chris finally said. Ezra's eyes snapped up immediately, a hard, defensive set to his jaw. He opened his mouth to reply, but Chris continued before he had a chance. "So why'd you go back?"

The question caught Ezra off guard.

"Pardon me?" he asked.

"You were gone. Free. Whatever. You could'a come back and gotten the rest of us, or ya coulda gone and drunk yourself sober at the saloon... Anything. You. Damn. Well. Pleased. But I wanna know why you turned around and went back for 'em," Chris shrugged, accenting his words by jabbing a finger into his black-clad knee.

Ezra was shocked. Was Chris' opinion of him really so low? Despite the fever, he felt his face grow hot and his anger rise.

"Friends do not abandon one another. Mr. Larabee, I don't know what kind of trash you're thinkin' I am, but I could not - no. I *would not* just leave those men there to die alone when I thought there was even the slightest chance I could be of some aide," he answered, honestly giving the other man the first response that made it into his head.

As Ezra spoke, his voice firm, stubborn and growing angrier with every word, Chris began to smile. Standish glared at him, hurt by his attitude. Chris stood up and patted Ezra on the shoulder, the grin still on his face.

"That's what I've always thought. Just had ta hear ya say it, Ezra."

The anger left Ezra in a rush, replaced by surprise. He paused a moment and wondered on what it was he'd said. Ezra was surprised himself by the confession, but on hindsight, he realized that he still meant every word of it. He watched Larabee turn and carry the chair back to the kitchen table. Just before Chris disappeared into the other room, Ezra swore he heard the hard-as-nails gunslinger say simply, "Thanks."

~*The End *~


End file.
